


The Intrusion Part 1

by Natasha_Barton



Series: The Intrusion [1]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3968068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasha_Barton/pseuds/Natasha_Barton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man chooses the wrong house to break into and finds himself face-to-face with Black Widow and Hawkeye. Part one of a three part series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Intrusion Part 1

 

            A figure clad in black crept through the overgrown garden, failing to notice the blinking lights hidden amongst the weeds. Natasha’s phone buzzed and she sat up quickly. Within seconds, Clint was awake and holding his bow. Natasha was gripping the gun she kept hidden under her pillow as she stealthily walked over to the door, Clint following close behind her. By this time, the intruder had made it to a lower level window, which he was attempting to pry open. Clint and Natasha’s ornate home had attracted a lot of attention from burglars lately, so they had doubled their (already insanely high-tech and complete) security. Before it had even begun to rise, Natasha and Clint’s phones told them exactly which window in their mini-mansion was under attack.

            “This one’s mine,” Natasha whispered over her shoulder.

            “No way!” Clint replied, “You got the last one!”

            “So what? I called it, he’s mine to kill.”

            “We’ll just see who gets him first.”

            The window creaked ever so slightly as the man in black raised it and climbed inside the house. He noisily dragged a large duffle bag in behind him.

            “Aw, he’s a rookie. This is no fun anymore. He probably didn’t even see all our motion sensors in the garden. No wonder he’s set off so many of our alarms.”

            “Does this mean I can kill him?” Clint asked, hopeful.

            “Sorry, honey, but I still called dibs.” Clint’s face fell. “I promise, the next one is all yours. I won’t even follow you to make sure you don’t mess up!” Natasha offered.

            Clint shook his head as he laughed quietly. “I love you, but sometimes even your promises are condescending.”

            “You know I don’t mean it that way. At least not entirely,” Natasha smiled sweetly at her husband.

            “I know,” Clint laughed. “And going to take down the intruder without you wouldn’t be any fun, so forget the second part of that promise.”

            “Will do-” The scrape of furniture being moved around interrupted their conversation. Natasha nodded towards the door into the living room. They silently moved to positions where they had clear views of their burglar. He was frantically stuffing useless items into his duffle.

            “Wow, he really is an amateur,” Clint said under his breath. His wife simply nodded as she aimed her glock. She cocked the gun, the noise alerting the anxious intruder that he was not alone. He froze as he scanned his surroundings. Unfortunately for him, he was being hunted by a trained former Russian assassin in her own home, which she had specifically designed to provide great tactical positions. There was no way he could have seen what he was up against; he probably didn’t even know whose house he was robbing.

            Natasha decided to make a bit more noise, just to mess with the guy. She wrapped her knuckles on the wall she was leaning against. The sudden sound seemed to break the intruder out of his temporary paralysis. He dropped to the floor as he squealed,

            “Who’s there? Please, please don’t kill me! I’m sorry for breaking into your house. I’ll just leave…”

            “Stay where you are.” Natasha’s voice echoed with authority. Once again, the man was almost completely still. His breath was shallow and far too quick. His knees were shaking ever so slightly. As she walked through the door and into the patch of moonlight coming in through the open window, the intruder realized whose house he was in.

            “Listen, I’m really sorry. I truly am. Black Widow, I didn’t mean to break into _your_ house, I swear. Please, please, _please_ don’t kill me. Give me another cha-”

            “Quiet!” Natasha interrupted, effectively silencing and scaring the crap out of the guy. “You don’t get another chance! You think you can just break into the home of a couple of Avengers and make it out okay?” The man opened his mouth to speak, but found himself incapable of making any sound. “Think again. Now, if my friends were here, you’d probably get a nice ride to jail. However, this is _my_ house. I’d rather simply get rid of you. That _is_ what I do, after all.” Clint watched his wife in awe; she usually just shot the burglars. Now she was messing with him, building up the suspense to the moment he would die. This was much darker. Twisted, really. It wasn’t usually his style, but Clint was enjoying this, too.

            Natasha stepped closer to the fear-stricken man.

            “Now tell me, between the eyes, or straight through the heart?” She cocked her head to the side as she waited for an answer.

            “P-p-p-please, don’t d-d-do th-this,” the man stuttered. Suddenly, an arrow hit the floor, inches from his left hand. He jumped up and found his back pressed against the couch.

            “That was a nice shot, babe, but you’re supposed to actually _hit_ the guy’s hand.”

            “Where’s the fun in that?” Clint asked as he walked into the living room. “Hey, you never got your answer.”  
            “You’re right! Between the eyes it is.” Natasha raised her gun and fired. “Time to get a new couch, Clint. I always hated this one, anyway.”

            “I thought you liked it.”

            “No, honey, you liked it, and I love you, so we bought it. Let’s get something other than leather this time.” She glanced down at the body and the growing pool of blood. “I suppose we should call this in.”

            A few minutes later, Cap and Bucky strolled through the front door. After examining the scene, Bucky complimented Natasha on her accuracy. Cap groaned.

            “Again? Really? You two need to stop killing anyone who tries to rob you. This is what we have _laws_ for. The government can punish those who break said laws. I mean, what the fondue were you thinking when you killed this guy?”

            “What the **_fondue_**? Really, Cap? Fondue is just bread and cheese. The word you’re looking for is fuck.” Natasha rolled her eyes. Clint suppressed a chuckle.

            “I am Captain America. I am a symbol for all that is good about this country. I would never use language so… vulgar.”

            Clint couldn’t remain silent anymore; he started laughing so hard, he had to sit down on the blood-stained couch.

            “Fuck. I like this word!” Bucky smiled at Natasha.

            “Now look what you’ve done. This is just great. Why do I keep hanging out with Russian assassins?”

            “FORMER Russian assassins,” Natasha corrected him. “Come on, Cap. It’s just a word. No big deal.”

            Bucky was unzipping the body bag while muttering “Fuck” repeatedly under his breath. Cap just sighed as he stooped to help Bucky place the body in the bag. Natasha crouched down to help clean up. Clint was still too busy laughing to be of any use.

            “Seriously, though, why do you always kill the intruders? This is like the eighth body we’ve had to clean up this month.” Cap asked.

            “It’s just what I do. It’s hard to take the ‘assassin’ out of ‘former Russian assassin.’”

            “I suppose. But Clint,” Cap turned, “why do _you_ insist on killing them?”

            Clint shrugged. “I’ll go along with whatever Natasha wants to do. You seem to be forgetting that I was a villain before I became an Avenger.” Bucky, who knew little about anyone’s past (other than Cap’s, of course), perked up at the news.

            “Wait. **_You_** were a villain? Seriously?” he asked excitedly.

            “Yeah. Natasha and I originally started working together when we were trying to assassinate Tony. Boy, did _that_ go horribly.” Clint chuckled as he looked up at Natasha, who shrugged in response.

            “Hold on, you too? Wow, there’s a lot I don’t know about you guys.”

            “Some of it you just don’t remember,” Natasha said kindly. “I suppose that’s for the best, I just wish brainwashing wasn’t the cause of your memory loss.”

            “Natasha, what do you know?” Cap stood slowly.

            “What, did I not tell you? Bucky was one of my instructors when I was training to become Black Widow.” Natasha shrugged again, as if it wasn’t important. Cap and Bucky stared at here, mouths agape.

            “I… trained you? Why would they remove those memories?”

            “Because brainwashing is a bitch to deal with. It’s hard to remove specific memories, so they simply wiped out sections of your life. Man, is it unpleasant to not know who you are.”

            “You’re telling me,” Bucky muttered. Cap was still shocked into silence. Clint had wandered off to find food; he already knew Natasha’s complicated history. He walked back in with a bag of chips.

            “Doritos, anyone?”

            “Clint, it is 3 am, we are cleaning up the body of someone your wife killed, we just found out she knew Bucky years ago, and you’re _eating_?” Cap snapped.

            “I already knew all this.”

            “And neither of you thought this information was **_important_**?” Clint and Natasha looked at each other and shrugged.

            “It never came up,” Natasha replied. She casually went back to cleaning the blood off the floor. Cap scowled as he joined her.

            “Hey, Bucky, can I get you anything? Chips? Water? Milk?” Clint offered.

            “I don’t want any of your goddamn milk!”

            “Whoa, Bucky, calm down. No milk. Got it. Any other things I should avoid ever mentioning, or is it just milk that makes your blood boil?”

            “I _think_ I used to like milk, but something in my brain tells me that it’s bad.”

            “You must have associated it with something negative before you were brainwashed again.”

            “Are you two going to help at all?” Cap and Tasha asked in unison.

            “Nope. I’d rather not get blood on my clothes. Plus, you called dibs, so you get to clean.” Hawkeye stuffed more chips in his mouth. Bucky automatically went back to cleaning, causing Cap and Tasha’s glares to remain on Clint.

            “Don’t make me become a widow again,” Natasha warned. Clint quickly swallowed his mouthful of food and grabbed a sponge.

            “Sorry, Nat. I didn’t mean to be rude. Look, I’ll take care of the rest of this blood; you guys go relax.”

            “Sounds good to me!” Bucky dropped his sponge into the pool of blood and carefully walked towards the door, Cap and Natasha in tow.

            “And that, my friends, is the easiest way to get Clint to do something. By the way, if either of you ever, and I mean _ever_ , call me Nat, you’ll never be heard from again. This is your one and only warning.” Natasha scowled as soon as they left the living room.

            “Why? It’s a perfectly reasonable nickname; it works for many of your aliases and-”

            “Enough!” Natasha interrupted Cap. “Clint is the only one who is allowed to call me Nat. Got it?”

“But why?” Bucky asked. Cap elbowed him in the ribs.

            “Got it. We’ll never call you that name.” Cap glared at Bucky, hoping he’d understand that he really needed to shut his mouth. He occasionally forgot how deadly Black Widow really was.

            “Got it.” Bucky mumbled, still unsure as to why it was inappropriate for him to call her Nat. He rather liked the name.

            “Now that _that’s_ been cleared up, can I get you anything?”  Tasha asked as they wandered into the kitchen. “Other than milk,” she quickly added.

            “I’ll take a glass of water, if you don’t mind.” Cap sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen. Bucky walked over to the fridge and nearly pulled the door off.

            “Bucky! Manners!” Cap scolded him. Bucky merely shrugged in response as he continued to examine the contents of the fridge. Tasha didn’t really seem to mind, so Cap let it go.

            “Ooh! Peanut butter! Why does it say ‘Bruce’ on the jar?”

            “Damn it, Clint! Not again! I swear, one day Hulk will kill Clint for stealing all of his peanut butter,” Natasha sighed.

            “So… I can eat this, right? Where’s your bread and jelly?” Bucky resumed digging through drawers.

            “Quick question.” Cap turned to Natasha. “You wouldn’t _actually_ kill Clint for not helping, would you?”

            “Of course not!” Tasha laughed. “I love him! I would never be able to kill him.”

            “Okay, good. You had me worried for a bit there; I know how unpredictable you can be.” Cap sighed in relief.

            “Hold on,” Bucky interrupted, attempting to speak through a mouth full of peanut butter. “Can we back up a bit? What did you mean by ‘become a widow again’?” He really hated being out of the loop.

            “Oh, yeah. I was in an arranged marriage years ago. Alexi died after a few years, or so I thought. His death has been faked so many times, I’m not sure if he’s even still alive. Speaking of husbands, I should go check on mine.” Natasha disappeared into the living room.

            “Wait. Black Widow is actually a widow? Huh. Did you know about this?” Bucky’s gaze shifted to Cap.

            “I’ve had to deal with Alexi before. That was not a pretty situation. Every time he ‘dies,’ Natasha gets incredibly depressed. If he does come back again, hopefully having Clint in her life will help her cope with her past.” Cap absentmindedly started cleaning up the globs of peanut butter Bucky had spilled on and around the island.

            Clint was zipping up the body bag when Tasha walked into the living room.              
            “How’s it going?”

            “I just finished! I can’t believe how much blood got on the couch.”

            “We should probably get a dumpster for that…” Natasha picked up her phone and dialed.

            “Hello? Stark Industries, how may I help you?” an overly chipper voice asked through the phone.

            “Tell Tony that Barton and Romanoff need a clean-up crew.”

            “I believe that Mr. Stark is currently asleep, so can this wait-”

            “Wake him up, then!” Natasha snapped. “We mainly just need a dumpster, but a transport van for the body would be nice, too.”

            “Mr. Stark has given me specific orders to not wake him in the middle of the night anymore.” All the enthusiasm drained from the woman’s voice. “Why does he have to be alerted? I can simply dispatch the workers to your location and-”

            “Tony needs to be _alerted_ because it entertains me greatly to have to power to wake him up in the middle of the night. He wanted to be our leader so he gets to deal with our mishaps.”

            “I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to wake him.”

            “Do you not know who I am? My name is Natalia Alianovna Barton Romanoff, and I will not hesitate to kill you if you don’t go wake Tony.” Natasha snarled.

            “Why does she always have to end with her last name?” Clint complained under his breath.

            “Oh! I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware who I was talking to. Please forgive me! I’ll go wake Mr. Stark right away. You can expect the items you requested to arrive in the next 30 minutes. Have a good night!” The poor woman quickly hung up the phone before Tasha could yell at her again.

            “Well that was fun! Why don’t I do this more often?”

            “You know Tony’s going to be pissed tomorrow, right?”

            “You think I care?” Natasha laughed.

            Bucky finished raiding the kitchen and, once Cap had cleaned up after him, returned to the living room; Cap trailed behind him.

            “Hey Hawkeye! Have you finished cleaning up your wife’s mess before she kills you?” Bucky not so subtly winked at Clint.

            “Did he just wink at me?” Clint was surprised by Bucky’s casual tone and out-of-character behavior. Since Clint was still kneeling on the floor next to the cleaning supplies, Cap decided to ruffle his hair.

            “My hair!”

            Tasha groaned and rolled her eyes.

            Sooner than expected, a dumpster was placed on their front lawn. Cap and Bucky were able to easily carry the ruined couch and dispose of it. The dumpster was then removed and replaced by the transport van Natasha had requested.

            “Wow. Threatening people really does get things done quickly!” Clint was mildly surprised and amused.

            “I know how to get the results I want.” Natasha smirked.

            “Don’t I know it. Nat, I know we make jokes about it, but you’d never actually kill me, would you?”

            Natasha stared lovingly into her husband’s eyes, all traces of arrogance and sarcasm gone.

            “I love you, Clint. I always have, and I always will. I could never do anything to hurt you.”

            “Good.” He grinned as he pulled her into his arms. “I was hoping you’d say that. It would be really awkward if you wanted to kill me.” Clint gently placed a hand under Natasha’s chin and kissed her. Cap, who had just come back inside, cleared his throat rather loudly.

            “You know, public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

            “This is our house. It wasn’t public until you walked in.” Natasha stared at Cap over Clint’s shoulder.

            “I suppose you’re right,” Cap chuckled. “Well, Bucky and I are going to leave now, so I figured it would be impolite to not say goodbye first.”

            “I see Bucky didn’t feel the same way,” Clint remarked as he peered around the room.

            “He insisted on waiting in the car. Tonight has been fairly eye-opening for him, and he needs time to process everything he’s learned.”

            “We understand. Thank you, Steve. I’m glad I have a friend like you.” Natasha smiled.

            “I’m here for you, as long as you stop calling me a fossil.”

            “Oh Steve, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

            “Fair enough. Goodnight, Natasha. Goodnight, Clint.”

            “Goodnight, Cap,” Clint and Natasha said in unison. “Oh, and tell Bucky ‘thank you and goodnight’ as well,” Natasha added. Cap nodded and waved as he walked out in the darkness. It was almost 4 am, and the sun would be rising far too soon.

            “Well, shall we go back to bed? I could use a few more hours before Tony calls to yell at me.”

            Clint quickly agreed and started for the stairs. Natasha took one last look at the spot where the body used to be before following her husband.

            Back at Avengers Tower, Cap and Bucky were dropping off the body and disposing of their cleaning supplies.

            “Steve, we have cleaning crews, so why does Natasha always call _us_ to get rid of their messes?”

            “Natasha doesn’t trust many people. I’m just glad she feels comfortable enough to ask us for help. I’m incredibly surprised she revealed so much of her past tonight. What we learned helped clear up at least some of my confusion about all the red in her ledger. We should have asked what happened in Budapest! She actually might have told us!”

            “What happened in Budapest?”

            “We may never know…”


End file.
